


Time and Again

by Kevin_Mask (Nikolai_Knight)



Category: Kinnikuman, Kinnikuman Nisei | Ultimate Muscle
Genre: Celebrations, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Old Age, Old Friends, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 09:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18848515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Knight/pseuds/Kevin_Mask
Summary: It is the first grandchild of the group.Suguru collects his friends together in celebration, as the old generation reminisce and discuss the new generation.





	Time and Again

“I’m so glad you could make it!”

Suguru burst through the doors. The smile broke across his mask, highlighting the lines about his eyes, and with each laugh – deep and melodious – the material would slip, now slightly too large with the ‘redistribution’ of his former muscles. He pushed a hand over his head, only to scratch at the back of his neck. The calluses were rough. The skin was loose. Suguru blushed beneath his mask, as he looked down where his face reflected on the polished tiles.

It was almost as if his father stared back, with the daunting realisation that not even a king could avoid old age, and yet – lifting his head and cricking his neck – not one other person in the room had completely avoided the ravages of time. There were more wrinkles about Buffaloman, while the cape Robin wore hid well his age spots, and Brocken Jr. bore stubble that somehow only emphasised the bags beneath his eyes. Still, the smiles were real and no less sincere than that from their youth. The laughter of Warsman had not changed.

He took a seat on a far _chaise longue._ Ramenman and Buffaloman sat to his right on an old sofa, both crossed their legs with one rested on the other, and the soles of the lifted feet faced one another, as they mirrored each other’s body language.  Warsman lay reclined on the sofa to the left, just opposite them, with his chin touching his chest and arms folded across his stomach, and Robin – with a grunt – took an armchair at the foot of the sofa.

“We’re glad t’ be here,” chirped Terryman.

One long couch was left, just opposite Suguru. There sat Brocken Jr. and Terryman. A faint scent followed Terryman in specific, like one rushed from the ranches and forced into a new environment, and it was an earthy scent . . . rich and memorable . . . _the rich pastures of vast fields, Terryman falling from the grand horse, the reveal of a prosthetic leg ._ . . not all memories were good, but still Suguru cherished every one. Terryman nodded to Suguru. Suguru nodded back. The smile that past between them was for them alone.

“I just can’t believe yer about to be a grandpappy,” said Terryman.

Suguru blushed and lowered his head. He held his hands clasped between his legs, as he twirled his thumbs and hummed low in response, but – even deep in thought – the smile refused to budge from his lips, as his heart hammered loud within his chest. In the hallway outside, a rush of footsteps moved to and fro with great speed. A few shouts echoed out. It was the same panic and excitement when Mantaro was born, except this time it was his son frantically mopping a brow and hopping from foot to foot in the warm ward.

“I already can’t wait to meet them,” chirped Suguru. “I know it isn’t the same, because it won’t be _my_ child, but I just think to how Bibimba and I tried over and over just to conceive Mantaro, and how we never conceived after, and it just feels like . . . well . . . another chance to smother an adorable little baby with all the love in the world. I love them already!”

“Well, we’ll be here to celebrate with you, old chap,” said Robin. “I always thought that grandchildren were our chance to do things right. We make all the mistakes with our children, so we learn what not to do with the next generation. It’s an awfully lucky second chance.”

“That’s a bit o’ a depressing take on fatherhood,” said Terryman.

“Do you honestly never think about what you’d have done differently, friend? I know Kid still harbours some resentment towards you, as I’ve heard him talk about that slap several times during his education, and hasn’t even Jade rebelled on occasion? I’m sure I remember that lad refusing to obey instructions on occasion. We all make mistakes first time around.”

“Yeah, well, if we’re talking about each other’s kids –”

“Ah, don’t remind me. I think I lost count of all my mistakes there.”

Robin lowered his head, with his hand where upon his mask. It rested as if it sought to pinch the bridge of his nose, while Terryman chuckled and Buffaloman barked out loud laughter, and the sigh that escaped him – expanding his body and filling a vast space – echoed out with a rather depressing sense of finality, which broke the jovial atmosphere. Ramenman hummed, as he stretched out his legs and folded his arms. A draught blew in from the window, catching his long locks of hair, and his eyes closed all the more, adding to his mysterious aura.

“Surely, there were more than just mistakes,” said Ramenman.

The smile could not be seen, but it could be felt. The tension in Robin’s shoulders fled, as they slumped forward just a small amount, and his mask lifted so that his eyes could peer out from behind the black-and-red mesh. A low laugh jerked his body. He slowly sat back against the armchair, before he parted his legs and threw his head back to stare upward. Suguru followed his gaze. He blushed and swallowed hard to realise that Robin was looking at nothing in particular, except for old memories within his mind, and scratched at his neck.

“I remember the very first time I held Kevin,” said Robin.

“Ah, I remember the first time I held Mantaro, too.” Suguru beamed bright. “He was so small and fragile, I was _terrified_ I would drop him or break him. He was this perfect ball of potential, and I had so much love for him, and the idea of causing him any harm just devastated me, even before we’d spent a second together. I swore my life to him.”

“I felt that with Kevin, too. He was this perfect expression of my love for Alisa, with her blonde hair and my bright eyes, and I remember thinking how miraculous it was that this small boy could be borne from our love and bring so much love.”

“The first time they gurgle and laugh and smile and look at you . . .”

“The first time they hold your finger,” added Terryman.

“The first time they say ‘daddy’,” continued Robin.

The three of them stared wistfully into the distance. A comfortable silence fell between them, as Terryman twitched his finger as if remembering tiny fingers clinging to it with great curiosity, and Suguru blinked back tears, as he thought back to a lifetime well spent with the greatest accomplishment of his life: his son. He remembered the first steps, the first lost tooth, and the first haircut . . . Suguru brought a hand to his chest. He rested it over his chest, while he closed his eyes and soaked in the moment, before he opened them again.

Suguru turned to face Ramenman and Buffaloman. They sat side-by-side with a relative silence, but each bore an expression difficult to decipher. Suguru raised an eyebrow, as he offered a half-smile, and cocked his head to the side, while he raised a finger and pointed it vaguely in their direction. It trembled with his advanced age, but still managed to alternate between them as he half-giggled and wiggled his eyebrows. He asked:

“How come you two old fogeys never had children?”

A low sigh escaped Warsman. Terryman groaned and dropped his head. He shot his head back and forth between them, as he asked with a furrowed brow a simple ‘what’, but the only response was raucous laughter from Buffaloman and a smile from Ramenman. The silence was broken only by the noise of an argument outside; Ikemen and Mantaro, if Suguru recognised them correctly, which brought a stifled laugh from Suguru, who remembered well blocking Bibimba’s family from the delivery room, too.  Suguru chirped out:

“You two are missing out on so much fun!”

“I feel as if we have a life just as meaningful,” said Ramenman. “I do not think my accomplishments are lessened by the lack of offspring to carry on my name, while I do not think my purpose in life diminished by the decision not to pass on my genetics. I am proud of the lives I have saved and the friends I have made. I have left a mark on the world.

“I may not be a father, but I am still connected to the new generation. I remember well training Mantaro as a young boy . . . he was failing his classes, so much so that even a ‘D’ grade was enough to bring a smile to his lips and a sense of achievement, and I will carry that feeling of pure pride and respect to my very grave. I taught him how to fight, just as I taught him how to be a better pupil, and he is the man he is now due to my influence.”

“That much is true,” added Buffaloman. “I was able to teach and guide the new generation within the Hercules Factory, watching them go from boys into men, and – to this day – I watch Kid with great joy in his victories, as he would not have learned to fight and win and evolve without the foundation we laid for them. We are their instructors. I will never be their father, so there will always be distance, but that does not lessen our impact.”

“I also think that there are benefits to being a teacher alone.” Ramenman smiled. “Seiuchin would break curfew to sneak into the kitchens, while Kid would somehow always manage to smuggle in a few alcoholic beverages, and I do not envy the constant fights between Robin and Kevin. As a teacher, we can give the children back at the end of the day.”

“And we do not get the blame for their problems.”

“Only the praise for their successes.”

A loud laugh escaped Suguru. It was followed with chuckles from Robin and Terryman . . . _the shouted ‘I hate you’, the slammed doors, the rolling of eyes . . ._ it was true that the instructors received much more respect, but still Suguru would not trade a single moment. He sniffed and raised his head. A family portrait graced the far wall, with the added addition of Jacqueline, and a tear welled up to see Mantaro’s arm around his shoulders . . . filial love.

“I do not feel the same way, _meine Freunde_ ,” said Brockenman r.

Suguru jerked in his seat. He tore his eyes from the portrait, where he saw Brockenman Jr. with his head held low and his hands clasped between his legs, and his dark eyes stared hard at the floor, as he hunched forward with tensed muscles. Terryman reached out and dropped a hand onto his back, which brought a small smile from him. The two of them sat quietly side-by-side, until Brockenman Jr. drew in a deep breath and sat upright. He cast his gaze from face to face, until he settled on looking at Ramenman and Buffaloman, and quietly said:

“Jade is like a son to me.”

A smile pulled at the corner of his lips, as he rubbed at his hand. Suguru chuckled and waved in his direction, drawing enough attention that Brockenman Jr. hummed and tilted his head, and soon all eyes in the room were on Suguru, as he placed both hands on his hips. He held his chin high and broke into a broad grin, as he winked and broke the awkward tension. A silence fell before he broke it with a loud and echoing voice. He kept his tone upbeat.

“You were always good to that boy,” said Suguru.

“ _Ja_ , I have raised him since he was a young boy.” Brocken Jr. smiled. “I have never understood those that would argue against adoption, for – though he is not my blood – he is my heart and soul, and I would gladly sacrifice my life for him. He is mine.”

“That is hardly the same,” muttered Robin.

“Oh? And why is that, my friend?”

“Well, I could understand if you _had_ adopted him, but – as things stand – Jade is merely your pupil and one must always strive to have distance between themselves and their charges. It is inappropriate to consider yourself his parent, when he had parents who loved him and that he loved in turn, and it feels disrespectful to them to write them out of this narrative.”

“You act as if my position were like that of Ramenman and Mantaro, as if I were merely there on a temporary basis and forced to defer to the boy’s parents, but I was the one to feed him and clothe him and educate him . . . I nursed him when he was sick, just as I stayed awake with him when he had nightmares . . . I cannot replace his parents, and nor would I wish to replace them, but that does not stop the fact that he is a son to me.”

“Ah, I never had a pupil,” interjected Suguru. “I have to admit that it does seem very different to being a parent, but can’t it be possible to be a parent _and_ a mentor, too? You tried to train Kevin yourself, Robin, and I’m sure that Terry’s dad trained him, so maybe lines can be blurred and rules can be made to be broken. I’m no expert, though!”

Suguru laughed, but the laughter echoed alone. The ensuing silence from the others was tense and awkward, with both Robin and Brockenman Jr. sharing looks that verged on antagonistic, and everyone else cast their eyes in random directions . . . suddenly a crack in a vase or a smudge on the antique rug were of great interest. Suguru dropped his head with a sigh. He scratched at his head and turned to his left, where Warsman lay reclined with his chin touching his chest and his eyes seemingly closed. Suguru tossed a cushion at him.  

“What do you think, Warsman?”

A light flickered on the eyes of the face-plate. Warsman turned his head, so that he could stare directly upon Suguru, but – even after all of the decades between them – a small shudder ran through him, as he forced a smile and waved to Warsman. The heavy sound of metallic breath paused for a brief second, only to resume, as Warsman pulled himself into a sitting position and turned his body to face the group. He said in a raspy voice:

“I have only ever seen Kevin as an equal.”

Robin scoffed, as he rubbed at the temples of his mask. He stood and walked to the centre of the room, where a low table took centre place, and poured several glasses of champagne, before he politely handed them about to the other occupants. Warsman took a glass and swirled the contents, while he watched the bubbles with an impassive expression. Robin took his seat once again. The silence was broken with several long sips and whispered comments between some of the others, and Robin was the first to break the quiet with an upbeat tone.

“I thought that you taught Kevin merely as a favour to me,” said Robin. “You were a good second to him, but I fail to see how you could consider him an ‘equal’ with forty years between you both and with such an inherent power imbalance. You’re his elder.”

“I also do not age. We also travelled through time. I would ask what age has to do with matters, at least when we are capable of great immaturity and the generation before us capable of great maturity . . . Kevin and I were even matched in battle, while he was the only person who ever truly knew me, and I have never sacrificed so much for anyone else.”

“Yer just were a dutiful mentor,” laughed Terryman. “That’s good, but it ain’t as if that means you’re equals or friends. Sure, intergenerational friendships exist, but there’s this gulf of knowledge and experiences between ya, and that ain’t easy to get over.”

“Then was Prince Kamehame not Suguru’s equal?”

The awkward silence returned. Suguru cleared his throat, as all eyes avoided Warsman. A ticking clock marked each passing second, while footsteps ran past the door outside, and somewhere – in the distance of the gardens – a servant bellowed out complaints to a colleague, while a car engine struggled to roar into life. Warsman stared down at his hands, which he flexed and fisted, and soon turned his narrowed gaze back to Terryman.

“Was Robin not Kid’s equal when they fought in the past? Is Meat not Suguru’s equal due to being frozen throughout time? At what age is the difference too great to bear? Brocken Jr is far younger than Ramenman, but their friendship has still stood the test of time.”

“ _Did_ their friendship stand the test of time?” Suguru asked.

He raised a finger to his lips. Suguru furrowed his brow and stared into the distance, before a cold aura swept through the room and all heads stared at him . . . waiting, wondering . . . Brockenman Jr. and Ramenman with particularly intent stares. A blush swept over him, as he threw his hands in the air and waved them frantically back and forth. He stuttered and stumbled over his words, as he mumbled that he wasn’t questioning their friendship, and – with an audible swallow – closed his eyes and rubbed at his neck. He rushed out:

“Hey, I can’t be the only one confused by time-travel!”

“I do not believe anything had been altered in our timeline,” said Ramenman. “If I have understood correctly, we have experienced two diverging – yet parallel – timelines . . . we share a past with our counterpoints, but – at the moment the Time Travel Eight appeared after the tag tournament – our paths diverged and they led a different life.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” muttered Robin. “If it altered our lives in turn, I imagine it would create a paradox and that would likely destroy both time-lines. If I had known the mistakes I would make with Kevin, I would not have made them . . .”

“And that would have changed the entire future of our world,” said Warsman.

“Perhaps you would not even be his second, but _me_ as I intended.”

“That would be likely,” continued Ramenman. “Kevin would likely have joined the Muscle League, which in turn would have prevented his friendship with Mars and his rivalry with Mantaro, and he also would not have been able to fight against the Demon Seed. I still remember training Mantaro, but in that world . . . I do not dare to think.”

Suguru sighed as the silence returned. The diverging timeline was a constant reminder of what could have been, as well as what stood to be lost, and Suguru cast his eyes once more to the photograph upon the wall, where his eyes watered to see Mantaro smile. It was strange to think of Brocken Jr. without his arm, Ramenman unable to train his star pupil, and stranger still to think that there was a version of him somewhere . . . in another timeline . . . that was able to fight alongside his son and know the future to come. Brockenman Jr. muttered:

“Perhaps we should change topic, _ja_?”

A low hum escaped Warsman, who sipped at his champagne. Terryman was on his feet, as he cracked his back and examined the various bookcases on a far wall, and – as Buffaloman and Ramenman talked among themselves – he returned with a stack of photo albums, which he dropped onto the table centre of the group. Robin leaned forward, as did Brocken Jr. The three of them laughed and exchanged old stories, while Buffaloman half-listened and chuckled at a story of Gazelleman and Jade. Terryman caught his eye and winked.

“Shucks,” said Terryman. “I don’t know about y’all, but ah do wonder which of us will be the next one to have a grandbaby. Yer ever wonder that? I think about a little ‘un and my heart just swells more than a cactus in the Arizona desert. I hope it’ll be me.”

“Well, I heard a little rumour on the grapevine,” teased Suguru.

“Yeah? Yer gonna tell us which one of us is next?”

“Ah, I’d feel bad to be the one to tell Robin!”

Warsman choked. The champagne spurted from beneath his mask, where it rolled down his neck and dripped from the jerked glass, and – as he coughed and spluttered – he sent a dark glare towards Suguru, who laughed until tears streamed down his cheeks. It brought only a low sigh from Robin, who crossed his arms and legs. He clearly found the joke juvenile, but Suguru was sure he saw an eyebrow raised from beneath the mask, as Robin lowered and raised his head in an attempt to look Warsman over after his extreme reaction.

Suguru slowly slid down the _chaise longue_. He grinned from ear to ear, as he dropped onto the floor and cursed his bad knees, and shuffled over to the edge of the sofa, where he leaned on the edge of the cushions and stared at Warsman. A chuckle escaped him, as he held his face only an inch or so from Warsman, who strove to ignore him. Warsman patted down his armour and skin with a napkin, while Suguru asked in a singsong voice:

“You’re not the father, are you?”

“I would not abuse my position like that,” spat Warsman.

“Nah, of course not,” laughed Suguru. “You have _many_ positions to abuse!”

A fist collided with softly with his head. It was enough to knock him onto his buttocks, where he lost balance and tumbled over, and – as he flayed about and continued to laugh – Warsman was astride him with claws so close that they touched at his nose. The room fell silent. He locked eyes with Warsman, whose mask cracked open into his famous grin . . . _‘he only smiles when he plans to totally annihilate his opponent’ . . ._ Warsman retracted his claws, only to immediately tickle at Suguru’s sides. Suguru howled with laughter, as he cried out:

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

“I find this in bad taste,” said Robin. “My son is a professional and puts his career before all else, which is as it should be, and you would dare insinuate – whoever this hypothetical father might be – that my boy would debase himself in such a manner. I can promise you that he has far more self-control than to jeopardise a lifetime of training and accolades.”

“Yer too old-fashioned,” mumbled Terryman. “I’ll admit that Natsuko was my first, last, and only, but that don’t mean that it’s wrong to get a bit o’ loving when ya got needs. If Kevin is seeing someone, I’m just happy that he’s happy. It’s nice he found love.”

“Do you not wish your son would settle down, Terry?” Brocken Jr. asked.

“If ah can be honest -? I don’t think he’s like Kevin. I mean, Kevin might be having relations before marriage, but – if rumours are right – it’s the same guy . . . Kid gets around a bit, so ah kind o’ think he’ll have a kid with someone before he’ll settle down with the right woman, but long as they’re mature enough to co-parent -? We have enough love for a big family.”

Warsman finally relinquished his tickle-attack. He stood and offered Suguru a hand, which was gratefully taken and used to slowly stand, and – as he cricked his back with a groan – Warsman subtly nodded to Robin and brought a finger to his lips. Suguru winked back. They returned to their seats while the others continued to discuss Kid’s promiscuity . . . _‘in my day –’, ‘these kids –’, ‘if I were his age –’_. . . Suguru plopped down onto the _chaise longue_ , while he beamed bright and listened to his friends and their hopes and dreams and ambitions.

“It’s funny,” said Suguru. “I was the last to have a child, but the first to have a grandchild. I always looked to you guys with such envy, begging to God that we’d be blessed with that same miracle, and then Mantaro came our way . . . and now we have a grandchild, too.”

“You will make an excellent grandfather,” said Ramenman.

The doors creaked open. Suguru jumped to his feet once more, as he clasped his hands before his chest and awaited any news . . . Bibimba leaned against the doorframe. There was sheen of sweat across her forehead, while her long locks of grey hair clung to her skin, and her elegant dress was wrinkled from so long aiding in the delivery room. The smile on her lips brought a beautiful blush that brightened her appearance, as well as brought a sparkle to her eyes. Suguru stepped around the table to be at her side. He struggled to hold back tears.

“It’s a boy,” cried Bibimba.

Suguru laughed and grabbed at her waist. He tugged her into the room, before he twirled her high in the air and relished in her shared laughter, and – after what felt like an eternity lost in each other’s gaze – he dropped her to the floor and brought her into a warm embrace. They held each other as if no one else were in the room, for the good news was for them alone, and he cherished the sweet scent of her hair and the warmth of her frame.

Together, life was complete.


End file.
